Stalling for Time

Many years ago, when Eli was just a young lad, this blog was filled with stories from his bathroom adventures.  Since then, he has matured and acquired a bit of tact.  He no longer talks about the carrots in his poop while we are in the Target stalls (remember this one?), nor does he make groaning, straining  sounds while in mixed bathroom company.  I'd say we've moved on.

But I'm happy to announce that Marina is just cycling into that stage.  What I have to present to you today is none other than a bathroom story starring my youngest little stinker.

I don't know if it is a characteristic of all kids or just mine but they seem to pick the most inconvenient times to do their "serious" bathroom business.   Yesterday after work we had an open house at the kids' school where we could meet their teachers and see their classrooms.  Moments after we walked into Eli's classroom, Marina started holding her tummy and showing the signs of eminent bowel activity.  Unfortunately, we were already in mid conversation with Eli's teacher.  I excused myself to take the little lady to the bathroom.  [On a side note, she must think we are a family plagued with intestinal woes.  Last week when I was at the school by chance during the day, Mark and I came upon Eli's class all lined up outside the bathrooms.  It seemed everyone had been in and out except Eli who was taking his sweet time.]

After a minute in the stall, it was clear we were going to be there for some duration.  Marina was insistent that she had to go to the bathroom but wanted first to have a conversation about the color of the stalls, the discomfort of the toilet seat under her, the price of corn futures, etc.  Since I heard a visitor enter the bathroom, I was trying to use my extra patient voice.  There was a metallic clanging of a cane that accompanied her walk.  She stepped into the deluxe stall right next to us.  Marina suddenly paused all conversation.  There was a tense moment of silence before the visitor released a shameless storm right next to us.  Marina's eyes got huge.  I knew her mind.  I had to stop her so I cupped my hand over her mouth.  Of course my little motor-mouth was not pleased.  I used hand signs to indicate she was to be silent; all the while the noise vibrations were stirring the air.  When I finally released her, Marina said, "Did you heeear that??" (just like Buddy the Elf at dinner).  The look of death I gave her caused her to respectfully lower her voice; just not low enough.  Marina kept whispering, "Fart.  Fart," in her 3-year-old-attempting-to-be-quiet voice.  I wonder if the woman next door thought we were taunting her.  Luckily she was too busy to pick a fight with us.

We gave up attempts to "make it happen" in the bathroom and ran for the doors.  I didn't want to have awkward bathroom conversation with the neighbor ("So... what'd you have for dinner?")

Marina did as well as can be expected, I suppose.  Sometimes the temptation is just too much.  As an adult, I sometimes struggle to stifle my immature laughter when proclamations ring out in a quiet bathroom, particularly at work.  I like to think of myself as forever young - like Peter Pan or Mel Gibson from that one crappy movie.

In somewhat unrelated news... remember when Eli used to pinch "booties" when he was three?  Well, Marina has a habit of her own (honestly, I don't know where it came from).  She will randomly back up to someone and fake fart all over them.  She has even done it twice to the cats this week.  Lorenzo seemed less than amused.  Fat Linda was too busy being dumb to notice.

Should I put an end to this?  I think not.  I'm all about wringing all the funny out of these kids as I can.  Plus if she keeps this up, I won't have to worry about anyone wanting to date her.  Win-Win.